Navigating Grace by Jeff Jay

Author:Jeff Jay [Jay, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hazelden Publishing

CHAPTER 13

The Bow Pulpit

The storm was so loud that night and the boat’s movement so jarring that sleep seemed out of the question. I needed to rest a bit though, so I stretched out on the narrow bunk in my foul-weather gear and closed my eyes, some time after midnight. I didn’t think I’d actually nod off, but apparently I did, because an instant later—or what seemed like an instant—I was jolted awake by broad daylight. One minute I was lying down and the next I was waking up at 9 a.m. I jumped out of the berth and poked my head up the companionway to get a look around.

The rain had stopped, but the clouds were still heavy and blocked any direct sunlight. The wind and waves were as bad as ever, but they seemed less threatening now that I could see them. And besides, sweet old Lifeboat had made it through the night and was taking everything the gale could throw at her. I was so glad to see it all, to breathe the salty air, to feel the quickness of life. It was morning in hell, but all was well.

The freshness of a good night’s sleep cleared my mind, and I was ready for work. There were lots of jobs to do around the boat, but none were urgent. So I struck a big kitchen match, lit the gimbaled stove, and made myself a full breakfast. I felt like an old sea dog, standing under the companionway hatch and frying up bacon, eggs, and potatoes in a cast-iron skillet. The spattering grease and the steaming percolator spread an aroma of humanity through the cabin.

I took my plate and coffee up to the cockpit and sat against the cabin side to protect my food from the wind. It was a dreary scene, but despite the god-awful weather, it was one of the most enjoyable breakfasts I could remember. The sheer joy of being alive was intoxicating, and every bite of food and sip of coffee seemed like the most exotic gift. My heart was light even as my mind wondered how we’d survived the night.

After finishing the meal, I refilled my coffee and stood in the well of the cockpit, surveying the boat from stem to stern. I still had too much sail up, that was clear. I needed to further reef the main or strike it altogether. I also needed to set my smallest storm jib, so I could ride out the storm for a day or two. Being hove to was problematic though, as the Gulf Stream would keep pushing me north if I wasn’t making headway. But it was more important to survive than to make miles south, so I surrendered to the facts. Acceptance is easier with a full stomach.

I only hoped the wind wouldn’t blow any stronger, as many sailors have had their boats dismasted by having too much sail up. I remembered being in an overnight race on Lake St. Clair when the wind piped up over thirty knots as the sun set.

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